


So Happy I Could Die

by Reddwarfer



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney works very hard to make sure John gets everything he needs, everything he's ever wanted. But John is still hungry for more. And Rodney never does anything halfway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Happy I Could Die

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: team_work and the mcshep_match 2010. Prompt: Wheels in Motion.
> 
> Tile stolen shamelessly from a Lady Gaga song. Rodney's invention was inspired by the works of Grant Naylor. Many thanks to my betas, busaikko and djin7, for everything. You two are the best.

_When you put your focus on something, whether it be positive or negative, you have set the wheels in motion for the Universe to deliver it to you. (Gina Mollicone-Long)_   


~*~

 

The sun was about to set, casting an orange haze over the horizon. John relaxed in the seat, and enjoyed the way it rocked slightly as the Ferris wheel turned.

"Why do we always have to come _here_ on your days off?" Rodney bitched. He said the same thing-without fail-every time they went to the boardwalk.

Shrugging, John replied, rather cheekily, "My life wouldn't be perfect if I didn't get to come out here every so often and listen to you whine about it."

"So this is your idea of a perfect life?" Rodney asked, eyes serious despite the quirky smile on his face.

John looked down briefly at their hands, fingers entwined, on his thigh and out at the beauty of the sunset as they rotated on the Ferris wheel. He thought about that morning when he woke up and Rodney smiled at him, how they'd kissed, made love, and fought over who had to make breakfast. He thought about how no one had recognized him as they walked to the boardwalk that afternoon, and the rather large stuffed animal he won for that little girl who spilled her ice cream on the dirty ground, and then he grinned, leaning his head against Rodney's shoulder.

"Yeah, just about."

Everything about Rodney just softened for a moment and he squeezed John's fingers a little. "I guess it's not so bad. Even if you'd have to be completely crazy to like these ancient death traps."  


~*~

 

 _"Sheppard," Rodney yelled, panicked as John fell, pain radiating in his leg. There were arms around him, his waist, as Rodney pulled him to safety._

The water was all around him, but he couldn't move. Rodney's voice was a steady stream of worry and derision in his ear. "I've got you. You'll be fine. I promise. I'll take care of you. Don't you dare leave, you bastard, we have unfinished business."

Despite the pain, John wasn't worried and he smiled at Rodney's scorn. Rodney had him, had promised him. He'd be safe. John closed his eyes and relaxed.

"John!"

"John," Rodney said, gripping his shoulder, voice tense. "You were talking in your sleep."

"Oh," John said as he opened his eyes and looked up into Rodney's face, whose mouth was in a thin line. "It may have sounded like I was saying Johnny Depp, but it was really your name I was calling."

"Ass," Rodney bitched affectionately. "It was about the accident, wasn't it? Your dream. I know you want to compete this year, but retirement isn't that bad, is it? I like having you in one piece unless we're particularly enthusiastic that day."

Rodney leaned down and kissed him, deep and wet, and only stopped when his cell phone started ringing—with _Aqua's Barbie Girl_ , designated for Rodney's work, much to his business partner's annoyance—and he scowled as Rodney pulled away to take the call.

With a disappointed sigh, John lay back down and tried to convince himself to do the stretches he'd been assigned by his physical therapist. John would rather just go out and run and lift weights instead of doing ten reps of pelvic tilts and trunk rotations. John was convinced his physical therapist hated him.

"John," Rodney said, gathering up his laptop cases while carrying a mug of coffee. "Do you have time to come down to the studio today? We're doing the last of the motion and performance capture today. And the rest of the photography to get your likeness down better. The test footage was for shit."

Stretching, John got up from the couch and unscheduled nap – he hadn't meant to fall back asleep. "I do have time, but the doc is going to have a fit if I overdo it."

"Don't worry," Rodney simpered patronizingly, but with a playful grin. "I won't let them do any lasting damage to the great Johnny Shep."

John scowled. He hated being called that - always had, but after his career started to take off in the world of professional surfing, the local sports editor gave him the name and his publicist had a field day. "Johnny Shep" stuck, and after a long, tedious lecture on marketability, he gave up fighting it. Still, Rodney knew he hated it and only pulled it out when he thought John was being a moron. Which was more often than he cared to think about.

"Call me that again and you'll be on the sofa for a month," John fired back.

Rodney rolled his eyes emphatically. "Don't be stupid. There's plenty of guest bedrooms."

"Not the point," John groused, because it was true, and Rodney wouldn't let John punish him in the time honored tradition for aggrieved spouses.

John had met Rodney at EA Sports; he was the head of the team developing John's first video game. Rodney had had a vision - developing John's game in to something people actually wanted to buy, surprising even John. Now, even though John had retired—officially—and hadn't competed in a few years, _Johnny Shep's Surf, Snow, and Skate_ was a mainstay title, updated annually featuring some of the best surfers, snowboarders and skateboarders in the business. John really never had to work again, thanks to the exclusive licensing and publishing rights that paid him a healthy dividend every quarter. It had made retiring that much easier.

"Hey," Rodney said later that morning, as they pulled up to Checkmate Games. "I need to meet with Derek for a few minutes, so just go down to my office or the break room. He's been texting me since he woke up about our showing at E3."

Nodding, John kissed his cheek and watched as Rodney scurried off towards the boardroom. He made his way down to Rodney's office and puttered around, poking at the different toys scattered around.

There was a poster for Rodney's latest game on the wall. It looked pretty spectacular. Even though Rodney had shown him a bit about how to code games, John was still sometimes baffled that he had gone from playing pong to being married to the man who invented the Total Immersion Videogame.

Rodney refused an exclusive government contract for the TIV and plowed dead ahead in making John's game the first on the new system. John had tried it and it was almost as real to him as actually surfing.

Once, John had asked Rodney about the secret to getting it to work and Rodney had looked at him for a long moment before scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

> 010000100110010101100011011000010111010101110011011001010010000001001001001000000110110001101111011101100110010100100  
> 0000111100101101111011101010101100001000000111100101101111011101010010000001101101011011110111001001111110110111000101110

 

He'd refused to actually tell John what it meant 1. John had asked Derek, Rodney's business partner, but had only received a smirk in return.

John still had that paper, old and wrinkled, in his wallet. He'd never looked it up, despite knowing he could, but kept it with him all the time anyhow.

They'd met almost thirteen years ago, when John had been winning every event he played. Rodney hadn't even heard of him, but the look he'd given John still made him blush to think about. Five days after that meeting, they'd tumbled in bed for the first time. A week after that first meeting, they finally emerged from it. That weekend he could remember with crystal clarity. The following year was a whirlwind of sex, surfing, and game sales.

Five months after they met, Rodney moved into his beachfront home and six months after that, they got married in a small ceremony in Canada, during one of John's snowboarding events.

He'd sort of proposed during a magazine interview by Prodigal Gaming Monthly. When the interviewer had asked, "Why Vancouver?" John had sat there and could only think of Rodney's face before blurting something stupid out ("You wanted to live where it snowed a lot?" Rodney had yelled, incredulous. "You're such a moron," hitting him repeatedly with the rolled up magazine when it had been published, "it's safer to jump out of an airplane than to drive around Vancouver with an inch of snow on the ground!" as John had laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.) Later on, the interviewer had asked John what plans he had next, and he had blurted out without thinking, "It depends on if Rodney ever opens that special fortune cookie I left for him." (When Rodney had stopped hitting him about the snow, and gone back to reading the article, John could tell when he'd arrived at that part. Rodney went completely still, then slowly looked up at John's face, who froze, eyes wide. Rodney grinned, and said "Is that a horribly awkward reference to _Spaceballs_ a proposal?" John finally found it in him to move, and he smiled back and said, a little shocked, "Er, yes?")

Looking back, it was all really a blur of great waves, even greater sex, and a public life he never expected to have. Still, there were days, special days with Rodney, he could recall with such clarity and those were his favorite, not the vague recollections of winning and smiling for various cameras.

"Ready for some torture in the name of making both of us obscene amounts of money we'll never use?" Rodney asked, poking his head in the office.

Turning, John smiled at him. "Sure thing, Rodney."  


~*~

 

Collapsing on Rodney's leather sofa, John stared up at his own stupid face on that stupid poster of his stupid game and regretted ever signing that stupid deal that meant he had to spend hours of time doing fucking motion capture, which was the most boring thing to do on the planet.

Rodney was typing away at his desk and John wanted so badly to whine at Rodney to take him home. He had his pride, however, so he just lay there like a wet rag and waited for the typing to abate.

"Rodney?" Kelly, a beautiful young woman who worked in some department of Derek's, stuck her head in the door. "Do you have a minute?"

Looking up briefly, Rodney nodded, waved his hand in gesture which said "get on with it, I'm listening, barely" and resumed typing.

"Oh, the story boards for _Demon Seed_ are ready and we've got the proposal for the Trauma TIV ready," Kelly said earnestly as she walked closer to Rodney's desk. She leaned her hip against the side of it. "I worked really hard on _Demon Seed_. I hope you like it."

"Yeah, yeah. You know this is all Derek's shit. I don't deal with horror and gore. I prefer things that don't involve kill or be killed attitudes. But, sure, I'll take a peek at it later, if I must. " Rodney had an expression of intense disgust on his face. Even with all Rodney's genius with creating games and game consoles, his favorite thing to do was play multiplayer _Civilization IV_ with John.

Kelly leaned closer to Rodney and smiled at him, but Rodney didn't even look up to acknowledge her at all. "We're all going out to celebrate completing this milestone. We'd love it if you came." And by we, Kelly meant she, John could tell.

"John?" Rodney said, looking over at him. "What's our schedule looking like?"

This was Rodney's way of deferring to him. Either Rodney wanted John to lie about their schedule because he didn't actually want to go or he was subtly reminding her that he was married. John would bet his signed Johnny Cash acoustic guitar Rodney had bought him (and insured for a ridiculous sum of money) that it was the former.

"We're busy," John said at once. "Sorry we can't make it."

"I didn't even tell you when it was," Kelly said with a scowl in his direction.

Rodney shut his laptop closed and got to his feet. "If John says we're busy, we're busy. And, on that note, we're leaving because along with being busy, busy people, we're also late."

When John had settled into the car and began diving them home, he finally asked, "Late? Did I forget about something?"

With a solemn expression, Rodney nodded and said, "There was some very important sex we were about to have on that surprisingly comfortable couch of ours before that phone call interrupted us. And I'm pretty sure it's my turn to bottom tonight. I'm not missing that for anything."

John was pretty sure Rodney always thought it was his turn to bottom, but he was too immediately horny to argue. Instead, he focused on getting them home as quickly as possible.

~*~

 

When Rodney moved in, he'd spent a ridiculous amount of money on paraphernalia for the Vancouver Canucks, and plastered it around the house.

"You're not even that much of a hockey fan," John had said, looking around the house in vague bemusement.

Rodney, with a scowl, had said, "Well, now that I'm cohabitating with a sports star, I felt it best to represent the home team. Can't have anyone coming over and thinking we're all about Doug Flutie and the rest of them."

"You know there are other football players aside from Doug Flutie."

Shrugging, Rodney had simply stated, "Yes, but at least he was smart enough to play for the CFL."

John had had to choke down a laugh. "Rodney, the CFL is...well, the _CFL._ It's...not real football."

"Of course, it's real football. What else would it be?" Rodney had asked, eyebrows raised, and looking poised to go on a long rambling discourse on the history of football in their great Nation.

John grinned, knowing he had annoyed Rodney, and said, "It's like saying the _Maple Leafs_ are a real hockey team."

Watching in fascination as Rodney's face warred between wanting to argue over John's blatantly provocative statement and wanting to avoid a distressingly dull, for Rodney at least, discussion of sports he really didn't watch, John waited until Rodney had nodded and said, "Okay, okay. Whatever. But the Canucks stuff is staying."

Now, years later, there was always newer merchandise from the Canucks, such as a signed hockey puck and jersey. They had been sent to them after John's article appeared in _Sports Illustrated_ , which had shots of their living room in the background. Rodney still watched them with leap-year frequency and never used his company's corporate VIP box during the season, always giving away his season's tickets to clients and employees, yet still bragged about them shamelessly.

Mostly, Rodney liked framing the best shots of John he could find—mostly candids of him wet, shirtless, and in skin-molding beach shorts—and hung them up in prominent areas of the house.

"To support your career," Rodney had said as he put a poster-sized frame over the couch of John posing in a Speedo (fucking publicist), which put David Bowie's infamous _Labyrinth_ package to shame.  


~*~

 

It was around four in the afternoon when Rodney called John about being late. "I'm stuck at the office working on a project. I didn't expect it to fight with me so much," Rodney complained. "Naturally, it's not actually my fault: It's the incompetent idiots who work for me. If they didn't routinely need my personal assistance in every task from texturing backgrounds to washing their hands after going potty, I'd be able to finish on time."

"Sounds rough, buddy," John said, hoping it was the right response. He generally tuned work-related rants out as soon as he figured out Rodney wasn't going to be home for dinner. After they married, the workaholic nature of Rodney's was slowly, but efficiently reduced to once in a great while. John felt touched by how easy it was to do. That and he had a fair bit of pride in his skills in fellatio.

Rodney hummed in agreement, and then said, "It is. Why don't you head down to Emma and Dexter's for dinner or something?"

It was a good idea and John hadn't seen Emma and Dexter for a while. "I'll give them a call."

"Sure, sure," Rodney said, distracted again. "I have to go. See you later."

It wasn't until after he called up Emma that he realized something was off. He'd talked to Derek only a few days ago when John did the rest of the motion capture work and Derek had said they had nothing on their plates until after the E3 expo. It wasn't like Rodney, who would have been crowing about anything new long before using it as an excuse to lie to him. Rodney was a terrible liar; he just didn't see the point of sparing anyone's feelings. What was worse, though, was how John hadn't caught on immediately.

Unbidden, a picture of Kelly smiling at Rodney came to his mind. She'd flirted with Rodney right in front of him, not that Rodney had noticed, but it had annoyed John anyhow. John knew that Rodney loved him, but this Kelly had John's senses going a bit berserk, something about her screamed "danger". Oddly, it felt as if she had some kind of power over Rodney, something that John couldn't claim, though John knew that was crazy, yet he still couldn't dismiss the jealousy Kelly inspired in him.

Trying to shake away the unpleasant squirm in his belly, John grabbed his trainers and jogged down to his friends' house. They'd bought their house only a few weeks after Rodney moved in with him and he'd liked them immediately. Not only did they not act weird around him because of his career, they liked Rodney, even when he was being, well, _Rodney_. Even better was the fact they were both kick ass athletes - both Emma and Dexter were in the UFC. Emma was the first female ever to fight in it and Dexter was last year's champion.

"Hello, John," Emma said, opening the door for him. "We were just sitting down to some stew. You are just in time."

John smiled. "Thanks. Sorry, I've been so busy lately."

Dexter was at the table and grinned at him. "Got to say I'm impressed. Wouldn't expect it of Rodney by just looking at him."

Slapping him lightly on the arm, Emma scolded, "That is not appropriate dinner time conversation."

Ignoring the blush forming on his cheeks, John said in a _please-let-this-change-the-conversation_ tone of voice. "Dinner looks great."

"Thank you, John," Emma replied. She sat down and fixed him with a look. "You must make sure Rodney joins us next time. He has been missed."

"Yeah," Dexter agreed. "He always brings good snacks when we watch movies."

Emma was forever trying to maintain a very healthy, macrobiotic diet in the house, which meant Dexter relied on Rodney to provide him with high quality (and quantity) junk food as often as possible.

John smiled as he sat down to eat with his friends, missing Rodney.   


~*~

 

 _John walks around the house, feels so hungry he's faint with it. He looks in the fridge and it's empty as is the freezer, cabinets. It's so odd. Didn't Rodney go shopping just the day before?_

He sits down at the table and watches Rodney eat happily for a moment before he's looking up at John, concern on his face. "Why aren't you eating, John?"

John wonders how Rodney didn't notice the lack of food in the house, and says, "We're all out."

"Have some of mine," Rodney says, pushing his plate across the table toward John. It's Rodney's favorite meal, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn, and he's offering it to John without complaining, without hesitation.

It brings John up short and he can't make himself reach for the plate, as starved as he feels, and he shakes his head. "No."

"John, you need to eat. I want you to have mine," Rodney pleads with him and tries pushing the plate closer, but John jumps out of his chair, not able to shake the discomfort of why taking Rodney's food feels so wrong.

"I can't," John says, hoping Rodney understands. "It's yours."  


~*~

 

John woke in a flash, eyes snapping open, and it took him a moment to reorient himself with the bed, Rodney's body pressed tightly against him, and the still dark night outside the window.

It was a few minutes of John staring sightlessly at the wall when Rodney murmured against his shoulder, "John?"

"Yeah, Rodney?" he whispered back, not wanting to fully wake up, but not quite ready to go back to sleep.

"You okay?" Rodney asked, concerned, and rubbed his hand soothingly in a circle over his belly.

John relaxed under Rodney's touch, feeling a bit silly, and said, "Yeah, just had an odd dream."

"It's that new med you're on," Rodney explained patiently. "It'll pass. Ready to go back to sleep or do I need to make your brain stop working first?"

"Hmm," John murmured and took one of Rodney's hands and nudged it down. "That sounds like a good idea."

Rodney kissed his shoulder and cupped his half-hard cock, playing a bit until it firmed up in his grasp. He let go for a moment and then his hand came back nice and slick. John closed his eyes, allowing himself to just enjoy the long, firm strokes on his cock, the wet kisses along his shoulders and neck, and quietly fell apart in Rodney's arms.

He tried to turn over to touch Rodney, but he was held fast. "Just sleep, John," Rodney said quietly. "You'll owe me later. When you're awake enough to fuck me good and proper."

"Sounds good," John slurred, mostly asleep again.

This time, he didn't dream at all.  


~*~

 

"They called me Dr. Johnny Shep, again," Rodney yelled from his seat at the kitchen table. He was holding the newspaper up, obscuring his face, but John was sure he was scowling. " _Mister and Doctor Johnny Shep were spotted again early yesterday evening, walking hand in hand of an undisclosed private beach, effectively quelling rumors of a potential falling out between the two men._ " read Rodney with a smarmy, high-pitched voice, mimicking every gossip reporter who ever lived pretty accurately.

"I think you like it when they call you that," John said, earning himself a mutinous string of expletives.

"I didn't marry your sorry ass to be called Dr. Johnny Shep in the gossip column of the local piece of shit newspaper."

John grinned as the crumpled up ball of the entertainment section hit him unerringly on the side of his head. "So why did you marry me?"

"My mother had a saying about bovine purchases and free milk, but I don't think that's applicable in this situation," Rodney mused as he turned to the editorial letters, based on his mutinous expression. "It's probably because I've contracted your particular brand of moron through prolonged exposure."

"You say the sweetest things," John replied and walked out on their balcony. It was a beautiful morning. "Such a romantic."

"Slander!" Rodney exclaimed, getting up from his chair. "Utter, damnable slander."

John grinned at him and cheekily added, "I can write it down and it can be libelous, too."

"You would," Rodney said, glowering at him. He walked right up into John's space, and kissed him hard on the lips. "You're just the type."

Rodney's eyes danced with amusement and he had a sneaky grin on his face. John absolutely loved it when Rodney was like this, who was decidedly not a morning person. Almost every day John could recall, Rodney woke with a sullen expression on his face, which would gradually lessen and then disappear completely after a few cups of good coffee.

The next kiss wasn't a surprise in itself, but the intensity was. Aside from a few memorable dates, which led to sex on the beach (which led to photos in the _National Enquirer_ ), Rodney's penchant for adventurous sex began and ended in the bedroom.

"We're outside," John said between kisses, not really caring but not wanting to get yelled at when he was enjoying his post-coital bliss.

Rodney licked at his neck, said, "I can see that," but didn't stop. Instead, he ran his hand up underneath his shirt, pinched a nipple, and huffed a laugh against his neck before biting the skin.

Leaning back against the wooden railing, John relaxed into Rodney's touch and let the need he felt course through him. Abruptly, Rodney pressed one hard kiss against his lips and then dropped to his knees, tugging John's shorts and boxers with him.

"Ungh," he grunted out after Rodney had swallowed him to the root without so much as a pause. Rodney stared up at him, lips flushed and wet around his cock, and John wanted so badly to come, to beg, to tell Rodney how much he loved him, needed him, but all he managed was a half-aborted thrust and another indecipherable, "Nngh."

Calloused hands gripped his hips, urging him to move and John obeyed, like he always did, when Rodney got like this. He grasped Rodney's head and fucked into his mouth as slowly and gently as he could, wanting it to last longer than the three seconds it felt it would. Rodney's tongue and throat worked around him, moving, contracting, and his knees slowly melted with every thrust.

Rodney's hands moved, sliding up his sides, fingers dragging up along his back as far as he could reach, and it was that touch, that soft, gentle touch that had him falling apart, coming quick and easy in Rodney's mouth long before he wanted to.

"I," John said, breathing heavy as he used the wooden rail behind him to keep from falling to the ground. "Just...let me."

With a creak of his knees which made John wince in sympathy, Rodney got back to his feet. "Um," and then he blushed red. "Gonna, yanno, shower. Change my pants."

It took John a minute and then he realized the implications and wished he could get it up again just so he could express to Rodney how hot that was in so many ways. "I'll," John replied, "come and help."

It said a lot that Rodney didn't point out how silly a statement it was, he simply nodded and held out his hand for John's. By the time they reached the bathroom, turned the shower on, and stumbled inside the large stall, they both were half-hard again, plastered against each other as they ignored the lukewarm spray fall around them.  


~*~

 

"You never grew out of your childhood," Rodney said as they walked home from another trip to the boardwalk. "That's why you insist on dragging me here, to relive your misspent youth. My youth, on the other hand, was productive. Though my hacking got me in trouble with numerous bodies within your Government. Still, becoming a white hat at such a young age gave me seed money when I wanted to start out in the field and no one would hire me despite my doctorates and over-qualification."

The truth was, John's childhood was a haze of wheels on the pavement, broken bones from wiping out, and disappointment. He didn't think about it much and when he did, all he really focused on was the day he first got his hands on a surfboard. Yeah, he'd enjoyed biking and skateboarding, but surfing, and later skiing and snowboarding, made him feel alive, like he was flying.

"No one would hire you because you started off your interviews insulting your bosses. That's never a good first impression," John countered. "You're just lucky EA happened to like your first game and hired you despite you calling the interviewer a moron."

Rodney snorted. "They _were_ morons. I'm an asset to the industry. If they gave out Nobels for it, I'd have won five times over."

Even though Rodney had a point, John wasn't inclined to voice it on principle. "I don't know, Rodney. Where would you be without Derek?"

Sputtering, Rodney shot him a murderous glare. "Far happier, saner, and richer, I'm sure. Though," he added as if denying the truth would cause Fate's wrath to descend upon him. "He has been known to have a good idea here and there."

"Plus," John added fairly, "if it weren't for Derek, you'd have to deal with people more often. Just think of all the stuff you foist on him on a daily basis."

Rodney wagged a finger in his direction. "Point. Though, I think I should force Derek to do the traveling more often. I grew up here, for a little while anyhow, and sometimes, it feels like a completely different place than I remember."

"Yeah?" John asked, though he thought he understood. There were so many things he'd thought were so huge and amazing as a child and seemed small or boring now as an adult.

"But I was so focused on learning as a kid that I never really paid much attention to things I thought were unimportant," Rodney said with a shrug.

Still, John thought it bothered him more than he let on, since Rodney had that face again. "Hey, my memory sucks, too, so don't feel bad. There are days that are so vivid I could recall every detail and others that are nothing but a fog and a sense of that it happened."

"It's probably all the times you hit your head," Rodney mused. "Between the snowboarding, skateboard—and have I ever mentioned how grateful I am you don't do those competitively anymore—and the surfing, which I'm resigned will never be over for you, I'm lucky you still know your own name."

"Of course I know my own name," John shot back. "It's 'yeah, do that again, harder, harder, God, I love that, yeah,' or at least that's what you called me this morning."

Rodney glared at him to no effect since a distinct blush was unfurling down his face and over his neck. "I hate you so much."

Nudging Rodney with his elbow, John replied, "No you don't."

"You're right. I don't, but I totally should. Asshole."  


~*~

 

John had never intended to have a career in sports. He was as surprised as anyone when suddenly his name was in Sports Illustrated and Surfer Magazine. It was a gift in many ways to him. When he was a kid, he'd loved surfing, skiing and skateboarding, but he always thought of those as fun hobbies, not his future career.

John had always, always meant to fly.

When he turned sixteen, during the last family vacation he ever went on, he was stung by something—they never did discover what—and he ended up in the hospital, having seizure after seizure. After that was when everything had changed.

Once he'd recovered, doctors puzzled over what had happened, and it was years before the neurologists told him he could stop taking the medications, though he never had another seizure again. But the damage was done, not only could he not join the Air Force, he couldn't ever fly at all.

Crushed, he threw himself into sports, spending every minute he could on the waves, the slopes, and ramp, the more dangerous, the better. Catching the perfect wave was as close to flying he could get and mostly, he didn't even miss what he never could have.

And when Rodney came along with his slanted mouth, bright blue eyes, and finely tuned derision, John didn't regret anything at all.   


~*~

 

 _John walks the halls of their house and wonders why it's not the same as before. It's bigger, bluer, and there's not a sign of Rodney anywhere. No overly large photos of John half-naked. No signed portraits of the Vancouver Canucks. Nothing._

Five long minutes of searching later, John finally finds Rodney sitting alone at a table in a room he doesn't recognize with a box in front of him.

"John," Rodney says, maybe a little sadly. "I want you to have this."

Edging closer, John notices inside the box is a large, golden coin. It looks strange, not like any coin he's seen before, not even taking into account its size.

"It's yours," John argues. Somehow, he knows this is important to Rodney. Too important for John to take it away from him for no good reason.

Rodney stares at him, says earnestly, nearly begging. "Take it. Please."

Backing away from the table, and edging near the door, John shakes his head. "No. I could never take it away from you."

He leaves the room, ignoring Rodney's plaintive John! _that follows after._  


~*~

 

Being dragged from sleep with a racing heart and mild panic was not the most pleasant way John could think of to wake up in the morning. Mostly, he preferred it when Rodney got up before him and decided it was the perfect time to indulge in his oral fixation.

He looked over at Rodney and noticed the preternatural stillness. Shit. Maybe the panic was for a reason, his subconscious telling him something was wrong.

"Rodney," John said, shaking at his shoulder almost roughly. "Rodney, wake up."

It was another twenty million-year seconds before Rodney finally frowned, still sleeping, and then finally, finally opened his eyes. "What the hell, John?"

"You weren't breathing," John informed him as evenly as he could. "Rodney..."

"Oh," Rodney said, eyes curiously blank. "I told you about the sleep apnea. It's a mild case. Nothing to get too worked up about."

It was true that it had happened once or twice before and John did remember the conversation about the "mild form" of sleep apnea Rodney claimed to have, but it still didn't make it any easier to go through.

"Isn't there treatment for that?" John asked, still upset. "I know there is...why don't you have one of those mask things."

Rolling his eyes, Rodney said calmly, "It's not a big deal, John. I promise. There are worse things in the world that can happen to a person."

It was annoying to John because Rodney was particularly fussy about John's health. If John even got a splinter, Rodney spent the entire day fussing over him, even if he pretended he wasn't. Even more mysteriously, Rodney was usually quite hyper-aware of his own health – John had been privy to many an eye-glazing lecture on citrus contamination and downright disgusting lectures on the dangers of organ meats.

"Promise me if it happens again, you'll see the doctor?" John asked, feeling particularly stubborn on the issue.

Rodney looked over at him, and softened all at once. "Yes, John, I promise. Now that we're both awake despite it being an ungodly hour of the day on a _weekend_ , maybe we should do something relaxing."

"Yeah," John breathed out, suddenly needing to touch Rodney all over. He got up to his knees and straddled Rodney's waist, leaning down to kiss him on his lips, his neck. John danced his fingers up the length of Rodney's torso, pinched at his nipples, and around the hair curled around his ears. John was fascinated with it when it grew out, mainly due to Rodney's negligence, and played with it when he could.

Rodney arched up under his touch, eyes intense and filled with something he couldn't quite get a handle on, so John kissed him again and again until Rodney was begging beneath him.

"John," Rodney said in a breathy tone that just did things to John's insides. "I need...please. Anything."

Anything was certainly something John could give. Smiling, he licked at Rodney's neck, biting at the skin intermittently, and reached over for the lube in the bedside table. He reached between them, gripping both of their cocks in his hands, and slowly worked them until Rodney was cursing at him to _fucking, god, just let me come, damn it, John, please._ John moved even slower then, taking in every sensation as his fingers pressed and stroked up and down the lengths of their cocks and the way Rodney's dick felt hot against his. He basked in the almost too tight grip of Rodney's hands on his biceps as he tried to thrust his hips into John's grip, only to be stopped by the tight grip of John's knees against his sides, and John's weight on his thighs.

He was so focused on Rodney's mouth, his face, the way his body trembled, that John was almost shocked when he came, spurting helplessly over Rodney's cock. He let himself fall forward, sprawling effortlessly over Rodney. He moved just enough to re-grasp Rodney's cock, slick with lube and John's come, and finally tightened his grip enough, sped up enough, for Rodney to follow minutes later.

"Ungh," Rodney gasped after a moment, wrapping his arms around John and promptly falling back asleep.

John pressed a kiss to the worry line that marred the previously content expression, and followed him there.  


~*~

 

Today, John thought, sucked. It looked like he might need more time before he could come out of retirement and surf professionally again. His injury wasn't healing like it should and the doctors didn't really have any good answers as to why. He was looking forward to curling up on the couch with Rodney and having a good sulk and not dealing with life for a while. So when he opened the door and heard Rodney yelling, John's mediocre mood turned to bad, fast.

"Can't you morons do anything right?" Rodney yelled into the phone. "Fine. Fine. What now?"

John stepped into the house and watched as Rodney paced back and forth, watching as his one arm that was not holding the phone to his ear flailed agitatedly.

"She wants to talk to me?" Rodney asked, surprised. "Oh, whatever. Put her on. What? Why? No. Christ, Kelly, can't you...no. I don't see why I need...I know I'm the best, but...Why? Fine. Whatever. I swear to God if this is a waste of my time, I will fire you all." Slamming it shut, he promptly threw his phone across the room. Luckily, the phone landed with a thump in a cushioned chair and didn't break.

"John!" Rodney exclaimed, finally noticing him. "Oh, god, save me from the idiots." A look of comprehension dawned over his face at John's frown. "Shit, John. I know we had plans tonight. They're not canceled, just delayed. I need to go in, but it'll be an hour. Or two at most. I promise."

It bothered him a lot, but John faked a smile he hoped didn't look as such. "Don't worry about it. What's the problem over there, anyhow?"

"Oh, the music." Rodney waved a hand irritably. "I guess we didn't get the rights to a few of the songs we wanted. I need to think of a few different ones to replace it with and get the permissions for them, too."

"I can think of a few songs!" John said, mentally combing through his music collection.

Rodney shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Your games sell because I never allowed that so-called surf music on the score. No forty-some-odd-year-old songs by the Ventures or the Beach Boys. No fucking way. Also, before you even say it, no Johnny Cash. There's never been anyone ever in the history of the world, who wanted to surf to _Ring of Fire_. Ever."

"Who did you have in mind instead?" John asked, rolling his eyes. "Avril Lavigne?"

Scrunching his face in distaste, Rodney gave him his patented _are you really this thick?_ expression. "I was thinking Soundgarden or Audioslave, something grungier."

"You're just saying that because you want to bang Chris Cornell," John said, scowling.

Rodney snorted. "And you don't?"

Refusing to dignify that with a lie, John ignored it instead. "Fine. Just bring a couple of movies home with you or I'm making you watch Back To The Future, again."

With a look of undisguised horror, Rodney nodded hastily. "Yes, yes. Movies. I won't forget." He then gave John a kiss to his lips and disappeared out the door.

The thing was that two hours was a long time, and John wasn't nearly as cool as he liked to think he was. Twenty minutes after Rodney had left, John had himself convinced that pretty little Kelly was busy seducing Rodney with a low-cut shirt, perky tits, and a come-hither smile. Thirty minutes after, John had convinced himself that he really was the idiot Rodney always accused him of being.

It wasn't that Rodney didn't want him; he initiated sex frequently and responded just as frequently when John was doing the initiating. Also Rodney chose to decorate their home the way he did - there wasn't a room in which there wasn't at least one photograph of John half-naked, including the bathrooms (which had five by eight frames of John surfing in various parts of the world.)

"Christ," John swore to himself. "What the hell..."

The worry returned quicker than he wanted to admit and he went back to wondering if all these recent late nights and the strange look in Rodney's eyes meant something he just didn't want to see. Ever since John had decided to come out of retirement, Rodney hadn't been the same.

Maybe that's why he wasn't healing right, John considered. Rodney wasn't happy about something and John's injury wasn't healing properly. Or, maybe Rodney wasn't happy because John wasn't healing properly? Maybe Rodney thought John was weak in some way?

He had himself so worked up by the time Rodney came home—on time, much to John surprise when he thought about it later—that he ended up tackling Rodney to the couch, stripped him of his clothes, not even caring when ripping Rodney's pants, and fucked him hard enough that even John felt like he'd have bruises.

"Mmmm," Rodney said, as he lay back on the couch, naked and sticky, with John plastered on top of him. He rubbed John's back idly. "Still want to watch that movie?"

John looked up from his place on Rodney's chest and grinned a little. "So long as I don't have to move."

"I guess we're stuck with whatever we can find on T.V.," Rodney said, not exactly bothered. He blindly reached on the floor for the remote and crowed in victory when he found it without having to disrupt their cuddling. There was a lot of crap on the television and the ratio of good to crap didn't increase with the more channels you had access to, unfortunately. Finally, Rodney seemed to have given up and settled on a science fiction channel airing one of the _Resident Evil_ movies. "This all right?"

John kissed Rodney's chest absently and realized he didn't really care so much. "Sure."

A few minutes later, Rodney was pawing at the ground again and came back with a half-eaten bag of Cheetos from underneath the couch. "Want some?"

He felt a ridiculous amount of love for Rodney right then for being so very him that he didn't even care how disgusting it was and said, "Yeah. I'll share with you."

It was in the early hours of the next morning when they finally dragged themselves into the bathroom for a quick shower and then to the bedroom where John got his second wind and made love to Rodney again - far more slowly, but no less intensely as he had on the couch.

Rodney gave back everything John had given him, which pushed that doubt to the farthest corners of his brain. And when it was nothing more than a ghost of a whisper, John fell asleep, clutching at Rodney in a desperate way he'd never care to admit to.  


~*~

 

 _He stumbles in the desolate streets, single-minded and wanting, toward the tasty smell hanging in the air. It tickles his tongue, makes him drool, makes him need._

"Hey, there," the man says as he nears. A gurgle comes bubbling up his throat. "If you're in the mood for brains, mine are the tastiest."

He sniffs the air again, the smell is nearly suffocating, too much and too good all at once.

"As they should be, really, if you're going to eat brains, shouldn't they be the best brains on the market? And those, my friend, are mine!"

There's a moment when he almost lurches forward, his chin moist, but there's something about this man sending signals, loud and clear, danger, danger, danger. _He turns and stumbles off the other way, ignoring the enticing way the man yells after him about his tasty, tasty brains._  


~*~

 

"That's it," John said as soon as he stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. "No more late night zombie movie and stale snack combos. And I thought that adage about eating before bedtime was a myth."

"Morning," Rodney said, shuffling up to him. Then there was a strong arm around his waist and a kiss to his neck. Rodney rested his head against John's shoulder. "Another bad dream?"

Nodding, John poked at the coffee maker, which was far too sluggish today. "Yeah. I think I was the walking dead, and then I offended you by not eating your brains."

"Hey!" Rodney actually sounded offended, which amused John. "I think I am offended - what's wrong with eating my brains?"

John laughed. "You want me to eat your brains? If I'd told you I gorged myself on the brilliant McKay brains, you'd have been offended by that, too."

"Of course I would have. You can't just go eating my brains willy nilly." Rodney kissed the side of his neck again.

He half turned to press a kiss against Rodney's cheek and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "So, you're mad at me for not eating your brains even though if I had, you'd be mad at me for that, too?"

"I never claimed to be a fair and rational man," Rodney pointed out and kissed the side of John's neck to distract him as he reached for the mug of coffee John had just poured.

John, feeling unaccountably better, allowed this blatant thievery and grabbed another cup. "You know, the price of a stolen cup of coffee in this house is a blow job."

"You can give one to me later," Rodney said between swallows. "I have something very important to do today."

Raising an eyebrow, John asked, "What's so important?" Then he added, "And that's not what I meant. You owe me."

"Hmm," Rodney murmured against the lip of his mug. "I see it differently. Anyhow, I'm going to jump in the shower and head to work. I'll be back around six and will be available for this blow job you owe me at six oh five." Setting his mug in the sink, Rodney darted another quick kiss against John's lips and darted down the hallway before John could respond.

The phone call came around noon. "John," Rodney said, breathless,"I want you to go to the gaming room and try out a new game for the TIV."

John was curious but Rodney hung up on him, the bastard, so he couldn't pester him for more information.

Rodney had set aside one room in their home specifically for gaming (a business expense write-off, he had stated gleefully). The chairs were just right for prolonged sedentary usage. The windows were darkened and there was every console ever made, each with its own television. There were shelves hung on the walls lined with games. John bet he would have killed to own something like this as a kid.

The TIV unit was in the corner, as it didn't require a television, and he hooked himself in, wondering what it was that Rodney wanted him to try. Any time John used new software, he was usually at the studio, and tryouts would result in him being peppered with a million and one questions by Rodney's minions until he managed to escape.

Once the TIV engaged, John found himself outside the hanger of an airport. There was a man, the guide to the game, who offered to drive him to a plane or helicopter of his choice. John was almost so shocked he didn't respond.

Twenty minutes later, he was in the air, flying in a fighter jet, and feeling like he could die right at that second and he wouldn't even care.

It seemed like no time had passed when the game's self-disconnection timer engaged and John was forced to leave. It was times like these that he truly understood why Rodney had installed that feature. He could have happily wasted away in there, not even caring if he ever ate again.

When he finally disengaged from the game, Rodney was standing right there in front of him, with a hopeful, yet somewhat smug smile on his face. John didn't even have any words to explain how wonderful, how fucking much it meant that Rodney had given this to him.

He scooped Rodney up in his arms, kissing him frantically then dragged him off toward the bedroom. John didn't think he could ever be happier than he was right then. It simply wasn't possible.

"I still can't believe," John said, whispering into Rodney's chest, long after the room was dark and the sweat had cooled between them. "That game. I can't believe what you made for me." He could almost still feel the controls in his hands. "I thought...since you've been so busy, and you never said you were doing anything new...that maybe. You were with someone else." He resolutely did not say Kelly's name. "That you wanted something else."

It wasn't long before Rodney rolled over and told him just how wrong he was. John smiled in the darkness, as Rodney kissed away the anger and bitterness, and lost himself again in Rodney's skin. Rodney murmured sweet nothings to him endlessly, his voice steady, reassuring.

He fell asleep plastered against Rodney, feeling more loved and secure than he could ever remember being.  


~*~

 

 _He's hungry, so very hungry, and he can hardly think because of it. He walks along the dirt path, smells the earth, and searches._

The sky is bright blue overhead and there's a voice coming from behind a sundial. And then he can't see anything but big blue eyes, wide and fearful, as he steps closer.

A part of him thinks he should turn away, but he can't. The man smells so good and he's so desperately hungry.

The man steps closer, despite the obvious fear, and peels away his shirt as he looks up at him, defiant despite everything.

The hunger gnaws at him and he can't stop himself from pressing his hand against the man's chest. A rush of energy flows through him, sating him like nothing's sated him in so long.  


~*~

 

He went from sleep to being awake in moments. John's eyes shot open and his chest heaved as he looked around and saw nothing but silver over him. At first, it seemed as if he was in a casket, but then the top hatch above him opened. John struggled to sit up, looking around.

Then the first trickles of his memory started coming back to him. Air Force. Stargate Command. Atlantis. He had been in a healing virtual reality pod. A machine Rodney had listed as too dangerous to use. It wasn't real. None of it had been real. This was... _Oh, god_. John clenched his eyes as more memories forced their way to the forefront.

Then all of a sudden Dr. Keller was there and had a firm grasp on his arm. His head was splitting open, so he didn't fight it, but he really didn't want Kelly - Keller, touching him. "It was set up to send me a message when you emerged. You're going to feel some cognitive dissonance as your mind acclimates back to reality," she said gently, as she and her orderlies helped him out of the pod and into a wheelchair, before moving him down the corridor. "It wasn't meant to be used this long, to this extent," she continued, trailing off. Then she said to someone nearby, "Turn off the healing protocols and keep me posted."

"Rodney," he rasped out. He needed Rodney.

He could remember them in bed together ( _in the woods when a poisoned arrow shot through his thigh_ ), eating breakfast at their table ( _running through the gate_ ), making love on the couch ( _Rodney dragging him down the hallway as he screamed about "No time!"_ ) and making love in the shower ( _Rodney hovering over him as he told him it'd be okay_ ). A million more memories collided together as he begged Dr. Keller to go back for Rodney.

She was quiet for a moment, they were almost at the infirmary. "Let's just get you taken care of, first."

This was all wrong, John thought. Once he was settled in bed, he turned his attention back to Rodney, not willing to let himself get distracted again. "You need to go get him. Now."

Jennifer gave him a strange look, mouth pinched, and said. "I don't think that's going to be possible."

"What? Why?" John demanded, heart racing. Something wasn't right, but he didn't know what. She didn't answer, but her eyes were bright as she turned and left as the nurses got busy setting him up in his infirmary bunk. He considered yelling out for her, but changed his mind when Radek ( _Derek_ ) appeared at his bedside.

"Colonel, I do not know how to tell you this, so I will just say it. You recall you were poisoned on your last mission? Well, Rodney put you into the stasis VR pod because there was no time to develop an antivenin before you succumbed. What you may not know is this VR was designed to give some of the life force of a healthy person to another who was not. It was meant to buy time for doctors in extreme cases of life and death. Rodney had initially deemed it too dangerous for use because of what was required of another person – the ethics involved. However, when faced with the dilemma, he found it worth the risk."

Radek paused a moment so John could process this and took for fortifying breath before he continued. "The machine was not designed for long-term use. Its primary function was for both parties to feel at ease during a pleasant experience, allowing a healing mechanism to kick in with no extreme repercussions to either the injured party or the giver.

For some reason, Colonel, your subconscious refused the process. We had to pull Rodney out the first time, after which Rodney coded the machine to bring him out at set intervals while he adjusted the protocols in an attempt to get it to work. The longer you both spent in the machine, the more difficult the reintegration would be once you awoke. Also, the larger problem of your overall health: while the pod provided a near-stasis like environment, it would not save you forever."

John closed his eyes, knowing he would not like hearing the rest. It didn't stop Radek ( _Derek!_ ) from continuing, in a subdued voice, "In desperation, knowing you would not survive if he did not do something drastic, Rodney altered the machine to _force_ you to accept the healing, using your REM sleep state; in essence, he made you _dream_ of taking it."

"Why did you let him?" John asked, angry. If anyone knew how Rodney could take things too far, it was Radek.

Radek frowned guiltily. " _Let_ is perhaps the wrong word. He did it without authorization, and he hid the worst of the coding, I had no reason to suspect him of taking such drastic measures. He was worried that your reluctance to accept the healing would cause you permanent damage if you waited any longer." Radek paused, sighing. "Rodney also disabled the safety protocols, which allowed you, once you accepted it, to take enough of his life force to fully heal yourself, at his expense."

John couldn't breathe. He forced himself to speak. "Okay," John croaked out, feeling a bit desperate. "Then we switch it around, and I'll just give it right back to him!"

Radek just looked away from him. Oh no, no, no.

"That is where we have a larger problem," Radek said, sadly, "Although Rodney could hypothetically survive many years in stasis if left undisturbed, he would not survive the shock of being removed from his pod to the healing pod. There is nothing we can do."

"There's got to be something! Switch the pod's crystals, or the wires," John yelled, his fist curling tightly around the bars of his infirmary cot.

"It is not possible, what you want," Radek answered kindly. "If it were, it already would have been done. Any one of us would have stepped up to offer our energy to heal Rodney after he had done this. But we cannot. I am truly sorry, Colonel."

Radek gazed at him sadly, and then left quietly. John wanted to run after him but a sudden jolt of pain in his head stayed him.

"Argh," he yelled out, grasping his head. He couldn't think. He couldn't even open his eyes. It felt like his head was being split open. Around him, he could feel movement but he couldn't even focus on it because he felt like he was dying. He felt in every cell of his body. It was so bad he barely felt a sharp prick in his arm.

He heard Keller say something, but he couldn't understand – as the pain drowned it out, though he thought he imagined Rodney's voice, calling him a moron, fondly, just before he passed out.  


~*~

 

When John woke up again, it was in an unfamiliar-familiar bed. He was tired of the sense of disorientation and he just wanted something that felt normal.

There was someone beside his bed, but John wasn't sure who it was. He only knew it wasn't Rodney. His eyes remained closed as his head still hurt like a bitch. He forced himself to speak, "Where's my..." husband, he wanted to say, Rodney, but something was hovering in the back of his mind, stopping him.

That was when he finally opened his eyes.

John tried to focus on the faces of Teyla, Ronon, Jennifer, Radek, and the other people hovered around him, but had the names Emma, Dexter, Kelly, and Derek superimposed over them. _You were there_ , John thought wildly, _and you and you._ A ball of hysterical laughter bubbled up inside of him. Rodney would have thought it was such a funny joke.

He stifled the laugh lest it become tears, and a part of him was still casting about, looking for Rodney, then it came crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. Unlike them, Rodney had actually been with him, the entire time, and it was real. It was _real_.

John sat there, gasping, not knowing how to breathe anymore because John Sheppard, Lieutenant Colonel, was back on Atlantis, healing in the infirmary from yet another near death experience, but Johnny Shep, retired professional surfer and his genius husband Rodney were gone. Rodney was lost in a machine and it was all John's fault. Every day that he'd spent with him, every moment he was with Rodney was real, true. Rodney had loved him. _God_ , Rodney had loved him and now John was alone and he didn't even know how to be alone, anymore.

It took a moment before he remembered he wasn't by himself in the room. John looked up into their expectant faces, said, "I...I can't," in a gruff voice, pushed himself to edge of the bed and weakly muscled past everyone as he sped out of the infirmary and hurried toward his own quarters.

Of course, it wasn't long before Teyla and Ronon were at his door and he let them in, though he wanted to be alone, he also wanted comfort, and he didn't know if he trusted himself to be all by himself.

"I am truly sorry, John," Teyla said, putting her hands on his, pressing their foreheads together and then hugging him close. He let her.

Ronon stood by them silently, and his large hand gripped John's shoulder, and gave him a nod.

John could only nod back.  


~*~

 

John ran.

 _"You listen to me, John Sheppard, because I'm only saying this once."_

He ran despite how much his head throbbed.

" _And I distinctly recall our wedding vows when you promised to love, honor, and never make your husband talk about his feelings ever again..._ "

He ran even though he had no place to go anymore.

" _I love you, you moron. More than anything. More than even myself._ "

He ran harder and faster, but he couldn't stop hearing the last words Rodney ever said to him, their last night together, before John…woke up.

" _There's not a universe in which I don't love you. I'd give you everything of me. Anything at all. If I had a chance to do it all over again, I'd do the same damn thing._ "

John stopped and crumpled to floor, put his head on his knees, and pretended he wasn't crying. Rodney had forgotten the most important thing: You don't leave a man behind.

And that's just what Rodney had done. He'd left John behind and he wasn't coming back for him.

It took him some time to get himself together, and get back up to find his way back to quarters.

He knew he needed to get over this, to go say his goodbyes to Rodney, stop letting little flares of hope spring up that a miracle would be found, and get on with protecting Atlantis and dealing with the loss as he had done all the ones before – friends and family dead and gone, divorce, all things he'd survived. He just didn't know if he could survive this. John's mind was still a jumble of happy times surfing on their beach with Rodney watching him from the house, confusingly interposed with images of the both of them on gate missions. He just couldn't reconcile the two.

John trudged back to his room and fell asleep on his bed still clothed. The only thing he was grateful for was that he didn't dream.  


~*~

 

John was getting worried. He'd been looking for Rodney for hours and hadn't been able to find him. It wasn't like Rodney to bring him somewhere and leave him to fend for himself. It also annoyed him that he couldn't find his cell phone. Rodney always answered that unless there was an emergency, which John didn't want to think about.

He wouldn't even have gone by to where Kelly was working if he hadn't been worried if she was flirting with his husband again. Rodney sometimes needed John to save him from these awkward situations.

John was just rounding the corner when he heard Rodney's name mentioned in an unhappy voice.

"This is not right," Emma said, "and you know this to be true. Rodney's actions speak louder than words he left on a legal document. He would understand waiting for a week or two."

Kelly retorted. "I'm only following his wishes. It's more than I can say for the reverse."

"I know that you are hurting right now," Emma said with a fair bit of steel in her voice. "But you must not let your feelings interfere with this situation. John has a right to be involved in this discussion and he has a right to say goodbye. You know he is not yet ready."

"Damn right, I'm hurting," Kelly exclaimed. "Without even saying so much as a word to me, without even discussing it with me or anyone, he sacrifices himself. I couldn't even get him to leave his job for an hour for dinner most nights."

"Jennifer, I am sorry..." Emma began, but Kelly cut her off with an angry, "They were married! Did you know that? The first night John was back, after we sedated him, he kept waking up and asking the nurse for his wedding ring, saying Rodney would be mad at him if he lost it."

 _Wishes? Jennifer? Goodbye?_ What the hell were Emma and Kelly talking about?

"That is all the more reason to give John a chance to say goodbye when he is well enough to deal with it. Losing Rodney is going to be very difficult for him."

John's eyes widened at that. None of what they were saying was making any sense. And the only thing he could focus on was the fact that something wasn't right with Rodney. He'd just been with Rodney not too long ago and he was fine. He didn't want to believe anything was wrong, but something unpleasant unfurled in his gut. They couldn't really mean...that Rodney was hurt somewhere. More than that, they were going to let him _die?_

That wasn't going to happen. John wouldn't allow it. Rodney had been there for him when he was injured. Rodney had pulled him out of danger, healed him. John promised. He'd vowed.

He turned and ran down the corridor, not really knowing where he was going, but after what seemed like forever, saw a set of doors that looked familiar. John sighed in relief. Rodney was just on the other side of the door and he was going to be fine. John would make sure of it

Just before he tried to open the door to go inside, he heard a voice behind it. "Yes, it is terrible, but we are going to shut down the console tomorrow evening and once he breathes his last, we will block this room. Oh. What? I do not know. Yes, I will be right up. Idiots."

"No," John said under his breath, as he hid behind a column. He watched as Derek left the room, muttering to himself, a sad look on his face. If they blocked the door, then Rodney wouldn't be able to get out again. He couldn't let that happen.

John entered the room quietly and shut the door. Then he tore open the door panel inside, destroying the crystals within, instinctively knowing this to be the way to bar them all from entering. John refused to let anyone hurt Rodney.

Then he moved the console with the blinking laptop. Soon, he'd be with Rodney again. Whatever it was that was wrong, John would help fix. He needed to tell Rodney how much he loved him. He needed to yell at him for hurting himself. He needed to thank him and kiss him and make love again. He needed.

He just needed.  


~*~

 

"Rodney," John said, yelling as he found himself in the bedroom of his house. "Rodney! Where the hell are you?"

There were a few moments of silence, in which John thought his heart would stop. Then, finally, Rodney stepped into the bedroom, eyes wild, and mouth tense. "Jesus Christ, John, you scared the shit out of me. Another nightmare?"

John wasn't sure for a moment and he faltered with what to say. Everything had seemed so real to him, but he didn't want to think about it anymore. There was so much pain. He could remember the pain.

"Yes. Yes!" John stumbled out of the bed and into Rodney's arms. "Oh, fuck," Rodney," John said, the words tumbling out. "I couldn't find you."

Rubbing his back, Rodney soothed, "I'm here. It's fine. We're fine."

"I-," John said, taking a deep breath. "I...love you. You know that, right?"

With a gentleness Rodney didn't usually have, he replied. "I married you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," John said, pushing every second of the horrible nightmare out of his mind. He just needed to forget it and everything would be fine.

Rodney was _here_ and so was John and everything would be fine. "You did."  


~*~

 

"The truth is, you just don't know how to get to any other place in this city without getting lost," Rodney said. The seat rocked as the wheel turned another few feet before pausing again.

John grinned and brought Rodney's hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss on it. "Maybe."

Things had been so much better lately. Rodney didn't have that distant look in his eyes anymore now that his sleep apnea stopped bothering him. And, much to John's amusement, Kelly had been transferred to another city altogether. "Yet you always join me. You can't tell me you hate it. I bet you actually like coming here."

"Why would I like sitting in a structure made of decaying wood and rusty bolts? I just do it to keep an eye on you. I need to make sure you're safe from the failing structural integrity of amusement rides and the flirtatious advances of anyone who ever met you," Rodney griped, though he was smiling.

The sun was high in the sky and John could feel a warm breeze across his skin. It was going to be good surfing weather in a few days. He couldn't wait to feel the waves beneath him again. "Well, next time, I'll let you pick where we go."

"And listen to you whine about how I'm depriving you of much happiness?" Rodney asked incredulously. "No, I'm resigned to riding this stupid Ferris wheel with you for the rest of my life."

"Promise?" John asked, serious despite his pleased tone. "Promise me."

Rodney looked at him, full of love and affection, kissed his mouth, and said, "I promise."

 

\- the end.

**Author's Note:**

> 1  
>  _010000100110010101100011011000010111010101110011011001010010000001001001001000000110110001101111011101100110010100100  
>  0000111100101101111011101010101100001000000111100101101111011101010010000001101101011011110111001001111110110111000101110_
> 
> Means: "Because I love you, you moron." in binary code: http://nickciske.com/tools/binary.php  
> Author's Note:   
> UFC: Ultimate Fighting Championship. Sadly, women are not yet allowed in the league.   
> E3: Electronic Entertainment Expo. An annual video and computer game trade show which features up and coming hard and software in the industry, as well as other things.


End file.
